


An Unexpected Understanding

by Lumelle



Series: Weddings In the Shire (And Maybe More) [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, F/M, Family Feels, M/M, Pining, Thorin Feels, Thorin Is an Idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5447765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Thorin sets out to find Kíli, it's with the intention of dragging him back and freeing him from the spell of the obviously evil she-elf. When he finally arrives in the Shire, his opinion has changed rather dramatically.</p><p>There's a lot of road between Erebor and the Shire, and a lot of time to think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> Set before and during [Wedding Bell Flowers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5400323); this one's ending leads to the ending part of the other fic.

The problem with being on the road in small company was that after the obvious conversation pieces had been exhausted, there really wasn't much to do but think.

Not that Thorin minded travelling with Dwalin. It was somewhat strange, having only the two of them there after he'd spent so long surrounded by people at every turn, but once upon a time this had been the way things were. He'd long since lost count of all the times he had gone on the road with Dwalin, looking for work in the villages of men, later sometimes accompanied by Fíli and even Kíli once they became old enough.

Kíli. He was going to find Kíli, and he was going to bring him back, and no elf was going to stand in his way.

"We could have avoided all this if Thranduil had just told the truth," he grumbled even as they rode through the Mirkwood, the path still shadowed and unpleasant but slightly less lethal now.

"He did, though," said Dwalin, because apparently he hated Thorin for some reason and wished him to suffer. "Four times, as I recall. Every time you wrote to him he wrote right back and told you they weren't in the forest."

"Well, he should not have expected me to believe that!" It was just preposterous, all of it. "How was I to know that he was actually telling the truth?"

"Well, what else could he have done? If he'd lied, you wouldn't have believed that, either." Dwalin shook his head. "Be thankful he actually told you where to go when you showed up at his gates and didn't just toss you out on your hairy arse."

Clearly, Thorin needed a better best friend. This just wouldn't do.

He wasn't sure what kind of a spell the she-elf had placed on his poor little nephew, but he was going to damn well snap Kíli out of it as soon as they found the two. He wouldn't stand for all this nonsense, not for another moment. Kíli was hardly old enough to declare himself in love, didn't right know what it meant to begin with.

Besides, love was a fool's errand and only ever brought pain. Better the lad be spared from such foolishness.

Their passage perhaps was permitted this time, the path at least not broken for all that it wasn't safe either, but the Mirkwood was long and dark anyway, and gave a lot of time for thinking indeed. Thorin found himself recalling Kíli when he had been young, when keeping him safe had still been a matter of making sure he didn't put anything inadvisable into his mouth.

Well. Thorin was just not going to think too closely on whether that statement applied to their current predicament.

When Kíli had been born, Thorin hadn't been certain something so small could truly be a dwarf. He had been even smaller than Fíli, born early and weak, yet despite his small size his birth had caused Dís a great deal of grief and pain. Thorin had ended up looking after little Fíli and the newborn baby for the most part those first few days of Kíli's life while Dís was trying to recover and Tuli was busy looking after her.

He remembered holding that little baby, so very tiny he was almost lost inside the already small baby clothes, and wondering if bringing this little life into the world might have cost his sister hers. He'd never wondered if Dís would have thought it worth the sacrifice, though. That much had never been in doubt. Dís loved her sons with all the fierce fire of a dwarven mother, would have wrestled a warg for their sake and probably won, and this tiny little baby had been one of her greatest creations. For that, Thorin had vowed never to leave the little lad's side, regardless of how well Dís fared.

That vow had come to a cold new light when he had stood holding baby Kíli, still so very small and frightfully fragile, as he watched his sister saying her goodbyes to her husband. Kíli had been too young to even remember his father, had lost him before he could have the memories, and Thorin had started to realise just how much his nephews were going to need him no matter how strong and loving their mother was.

He would never have children of his own, he knew as much, had never wished for them before and could never have them now, not when he had lost his heart and would never take another love. That didn't matter, though, not when he already had the two best heirs a dwarf could ever hope for, for all that they were occasionally bent for some youthful foolishness.

They stopped in Rivendell, much though he might have wished otherwise, needed the supplies and the confirmation that they were indeed on the right path. Lord Elrond was strictly polite and not hostile at all, telling them they weren't far behind the two lovers and hosting Thorin and Dwalin while they and their mounts recovered from their trek over the mountains. Thorin felt restless and ready to leave, but even he knew that to do so would have been foolish; the last thing they needed was to exhaust their ponies and perhaps be caught without mounts or reinforcements in an area where orcs still occasionally roamed. Dwalin seemed content to spend most of his time either snoring away or enjoying elven hospitality, which this time actually included meat, while Thorin tried to ease his thoughts by wandering about the place. It was hardly as impressive as the grand halls of Erebor, but he had to admit there was some skill and artistry to the layout and structure of the Last Homely House.

He came across a group of elven archers practising on one of his walks, paused to watch their perfectly synchronised row. It was a delight to see skilled warriors at work, even if they were elves, and these elves certainly knew their bows, each arrow finding its mark without fail. He wondered idly if Kíli had taken part in their practice while he had stayed there, if they'd allowed a young dwarf to stand beside them and draw his own bow in time to theirs.

It had been Thorin who first set Kíli's hands on a bow, first showed him the right way to hold the bowstring, how to position his arms. He'd only known the very basics himself, and those only because his old arms master had insisted that a prince ought to know something of every weapon in the armoury, but Tuli had been a hunter and an archer and Thorin had known he would have liked to see one of his sons taking up his weapon. So, Thorin taught Kíli what he could, and when his own skills came to an end found him other teachers, never trying to discourage him from his chosen path even when Kíli declared that he would have the bow as his main weapon instead of the more traditional choices. He knew some had thought him needlessly indulgent, had considered such a choice disgraceful for a prince of Durin's line, but Thorin had never listened to such malicious tongues. This had been Kíli, his little nephew and a shining jewel in the crown of Durin, and if any had a problem with his choice of weapon they certainly could never say a bad word about his skill at it.

Of course, that hadn't been the last time Kíli had caused murmurs among the dwarves. He'd never been an ordinary dwarf, something always setting him apart from those around him. Oh, he was as stubborn and loyal and fierce as the next dwarf, dedicated himself to his weapon and his craft, but he also had his differences. He'd always enjoyed wandering out of the mountain, had found other folks a matter of curiosity rather than suspicion, shown little interest in shining things and no pleasure in metalwork beyond making his elders proud. Thorin had worried about him sometimes, when his cheeks wouldn't grow beyond a rough stubble or his thoughts wandered off somewhere far beyond the practical matters of their life, had wondered if they'd failed him somehow or if his birth had left him addled in some fashion.

When he had first walked in on Kíli shaving his face — shaving, like he was a man and not a dwarf! — it might have been cause for a fight, a time for him to put down his foot once and for all and demand that Kíli behaved as a dwarf should. Except Kíli had been the first, had told Thorin he loved his bow more than he did his beard and thus kept it short so as not to snag it with his bowstring, and was it not a very dwarven thing to sacrifice everything else for the sake of one goal? Thorin had backed down, then, had seen the lad with new eyes since that day, seen that for all his strange habits and flights of fancy Kíli was still a dwarf, Durin's blood through and through. He showed it in different ways, but perhaps that was just the way Mahal had made him, and it was hardly Thorin's place to judge that which his Maker had shaped.

Except then his nephew had come to him with another matter — the matter of his One, the most sacred of blessings Mahal could bestow upon any of their kind — and Thorin had forgotten that in the face of his own blindness and mistrust.

It wasn't the final realisation, not quite, but it did leave Thorin deep in thought as they finally rode out of Rivendell.

His final epiphany came to him somewhere on the road west from Rivendell, over a campfire as he found his thoughts wandering off further to the west. According to Elrond Kíli and Tauriel had been bound for the Shire, and if Thorin followed them there he would no doubt run into a certain hobbit. The thought both excited and frightened him, bringing to mind his mistakes even as he yearned to see Bilbo again. There had been an aching hole right through his heart this whole time, so constant in its pain he hadn't even realised it until now that he was offered the possibility of relief. When he reached the Shire, he wasn't sure he could leave again, not for all the treasures of Erebor and all the halls of Durin's folk.

All of a sudden, he knew exactly why Kíli had fled, and it had nothing to do with charms or coercion.

"I failed him, didn't I." Thorin looked at his old friend over the small fire the had put together. "I failed Kíli. He came to me for my blessing and advice and instead I turned him away."

Dwalin shrugged, looking vaguely uncomfortable with this discussion. "You did what you thought was right," he said. "I can't truly blame you, from what you knew at the time. It was abrupt for sure, for him to be so lost for an elf who locked us up; it's not like you knew then that she had saved him before, or shared his confidences."

"I would have known if I'd listened to him." Thorin shook his head. "Others believed him, Fíli certainly did, and he's always known his brother better than anyone. If I'd only listened instead of dismissing it all as young foolishness, we'd all be safely home in Erebor, Kíli's elf and all."

"Well, you didn't and we aren't, so we'll just have to deal with that." Why were they friends, again? "In any case, I've been thinking — I'd like to drop by Ered Luin, get anything Balin and I have left there that isn't easily replaced, maybe see some friends who haven't already left for Erebor. I'll ride with you to the edge of the Shire, and come back that way once I'm done with my errands. You can handle a bunch of hobbits on your own, can't you?"

Thorin narrowed his eyes. "What are you scheming?" This was certainly the first time he heard of any such plan.

"Scheming? I'm not scheming anything." Dwalin grinned. "Though perhaps I just don't want to witness the disgrace of my king when Bilbo inevitably tosses you over the compost heap."

Yes, he definitely needed a new best friend.

So it was, then, that Thorin was alone as he arrived in Hobbiton and had his pony set up for however long he would be staying. The hobbit he left his pony with mentioned a party where everyone would be, so that was what Thorin set out to find, realising to his misfortune that there were very few hobbits around to tell him where to go.

It wasn't until he actually found the party some hours later, tired and annoyed and rather out of sorts in every way, that he realised just what the party was for. He could see Kíli easily enough, even at a distance and through the falling night. He was much taller than any of the hobbits, but the elf in his arms was taller still, neither of them having eyes for anything but each other as they danced through the happily celebrating crowd. Her hair had been braided into a complicated crown with flowers weaved into it, and as Kíli spun her around he saw a single thin braid whirling through the air, shining like copper in the light of the lanterns. Her marriage braid, it had to be, with its counterpart in Kíli's own hair, the strongest claim a dwarf could ever offer another.

Kíli had gotten married, his little nephew had gotten married, and the only ones to celebrate that marriage and share this day with him were the kindly folk of this strange place because his own family had turned him away. No, not even that, for Fíli had never doubted his love, and Dís had not been there to say her bit either way — it had only been Thorin who had tried to deny him the greatest treasure that had been created for him.

Mahal, Thorin owed him much more than an apology. He owed them both more than that.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, watching the party from the side, unsure of his welcome. He did notice, however, as one small figure parted from the crowd, wandering to the side, far enough from where Thorin stood in the shadows not to notice him. Dwarves, however, saw well in the dark, and this falling night with candles and lanterns scattered about the clearing was not nearly enough to conceal the familiar form from Thorin's eyes. He was fairly sure he would have recognised it even blind, would have known it simply by the feeling in his heart, agony and relief all at once now that he was at last near the most precious thing he'd ever had, now lost to his own foolishness.

For a moment he almost considered turning to leave, thought of going to Ered Luin after Dwalin, perhaps sending word to Kíli and Tauriel that he would be happy to have them ride to Erebor with them when they left. However, he knew that wasn't an option, not really. He could have as soon carved out his own heart and left without it.

With a deep breath, he walked closer and reached his hand to touch Bilbo's shoulder.

He'd done enough thinking already.


End file.
